


I'm Done Fighting.

by FrankiValerie



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, Hate Sex, Hate fucking, I will destroy you, Lesbian Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Shameless Smut, This isnt a ship, Vaginal Fingering, anti ship, dont tell miranda, i hate this ship, its hot though, no logic, power, seriously, this is a power play, this is predetory, this is tension release, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankiValerie/pseuds/FrankiValerie
Summary: Why did i write this when I can't stand the Jackanda ship? Because this isn't a ship.  This is illogical hate fucking, a predatory power play and fuck I'd kill to be Miranda in this fic. There's so much I don't like about the build up but I'm using the excuse that this is SHAMELESS ILLOGICAL SMUT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO WRITE IT -- I totally dunno why I needed to write it but I did and here it is so enjoy.Leave comments and kudos if you think it's worth the confusion.This is for Ao3 only. And certain people I know I can trust to keep their mouths shut.If you're finicky about timelines, this is supposed to take place after the war, or at least after Citadel DLC events.





	I'm Done Fighting.

Jack exhaled, a smirk forming at her mouth, and her energy died down, dropping the chair she’d picked up for throwing at Miranda.   

“I’m not gonna fight you anymore, Lawson.” she spoke low with an undertone of a threat.  

Breathless, Miranda also cut off her biotics, though not allowing herself to relax in the convict’s presence, “About bloody time, Jack, I--”  

Jack stepped forward, a predatory glint in her eyes, “Fighting ain’t gonna do shit. We don’t wanna kill each other now.”  

Miranda had stepped back, involuntarily, admitting to herself that since Shepard’s shore leave party before the war’s end the two had grown to be almost friends - Jack was at very least a valuable contact. “Well, no, I’d rather-- What are-- _mmm!_ ”  

Jack had closed the gap between them and mashed her lips against Miranda’s.  The operative’s eyes widened, her brow furrowed.  She lifted her hands to push Jack away, taking a step back but Jack used her movements to push her against the wall, grabbing her hands and holding them down, her lips parting to deepen their kiss.  

Miranda felt herself falling into the kiss and sharply ignited her biotics again, using them to push Jack backwards, “What are you doing?!” She defensively kept her biotics around her, though felt a deep ache at the absence of Jack’s hard, warm body against hers.  Her lips quivered to be kissed again. Jack licked her lips, the same heat in her eyes as they bored into hers.  As Miranda spoke Jack tore off her jacket and flicked open her belt.  

“I’m gonna fuck you, Princess. I’m taking Shepard’s advice - he said kiss and get it over with. We don’t do shit by half - just kissing isn’t gonna release any fucking tension. So I’m gonna fuck you.” The reasoning could have been sound if not for the part where a woman who -usually- made Miranda’s skin crawl was now proposing she let her touch her so… intimately. Even if the idea _was_ causing a heat to spread below her waist...   

“You’ll do no such thing!” Miranda protested, but her voice buckled and she could feel a flush rise in her cheeks.  Jack grinned and nodded, picking up on the subtle change.  

“I’m gonna tear that cat-suit open, you’re gonna get on that desk,” Jack pointed to the desk behind her, “and I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.” she stepped forward now, slowly, eyes never leaving Miranda’s.  She tugged off her belt and held it in front of Miranda, “And I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back.”  

Miranda eyed the belt, then back to Jack, hesitating only a moment then finally dropping her biotics again, letting a needing moan escape her quivering lips before lurching forward to kiss Jack again. Jack smirked against her lips, taking the belt behind Miranda’s back, grasping her arms tight. Miranda pulled back from the kiss again, swallowing, panting, “What--what’s the significance of the belt?”  

Jack frowned, her eyes now focused on Miranda’s lips, still working at binding her arms, bending her arms at the elbow, binding her hands too, “Call it a trust exercise. You trust me not to hurt you, I trust you to not tell anyone we did this.”  

She tied the buckle tight and Miranda grunted, then leaned in to Jack again, “Seems fair…”  

In a smooth movement Jack guided Miranda away from the wall, her body glowing blue a moment, a flash of biotics sweeping from her to clear everything off the desk’s surface to lay the operative upon it. Jack climbed up onto the desk, hovering over Miranda, one knee by her hip, the other between her legs, pressing up against her sex as she resumed their kiss. She worked her knee hard against Miranda’s core, enticing gasps filled with a painful pleasure.  

Jack moved her lips to Miranda’s neck, nibbling, sucking with the intention of leaving a huge mark.  Miranda gasped her name, “Jack, no, stop.”  

The tattooed convict stopped all movement and pulled back with a frustrated grunt to look her in the eye but said nothing.  

Miranda squirmed, almost involuntarily, moving her hips against Jack’s knee, needing her to continue and pleaded, “The crew… Not where they’ll see...”  

Jack’s smirk returned and she held Miranda’s gaze as she zipped open her catsuit, pressing her leg harder to Miranda’s crotch, letting the curvy operative grind herself on it. With her arms behind her back, pushing her chest up, arching her back, Miranda’s hips were tilted at the perfect angle for perfect pressure against her perfect pussy.  

With the catsuit open, Jack leant to press her lips to Miranda’s chest, between those fantastic tits.  She resumed her sucking, licking, nibbling, her fingers moving to defly tease the hardening buds that were Miranda’s pink nipples.   

Miranda’s squirming sped, her moans grew to impatient grunts. Jack lifted her head to see a flush in her cheeks and grinned, rising to hover over her, again ceasing all movement, and enjoying the feeling of desperation in the way Miranda grinded herself on Jack’s leg. Their eyes met, one pair pleading for more attention, more stimulation, the other predatory, teasing, darkly playful. 

Miranda groaned, shifting around beneath her to tilt her hips more, back arching, rolling her hips slowly.  “Jack…”  

Jack pinched Miranda’s nipple once more then played her fingertips slowly down her creamy skin, watching her expression closely.  She gasped at the pinch, groaned low at the soft touch playing down her torso, bit her lip when Jack’s fingers reached the waist of her catsuit, closed her eyes and arched her back when she slid her hand into her panties and exhaled in met desire as Jack’s index finger tip rolled across her clit.  

Jack grinned at how wet Miranda’s pussy had become through her needy grinding, how her swollen pussy lips had opened invitingly, allowing 3 of Jack’s fingers to easily slide over the Operative’s soaking sex.  

As Miranda’s breath began to hitch in her heaving chest, Jack softened her touch, bringing her back down from that edge, she softened her touch to barely a breath, until Miranda grunted in frustration and lifted her head again to glare at Jack for teasing her. Jack waited another moment then roughly pushed her middle and ring fingers deep into Miranda’s cunt, beginning to pump her fingers into her, keeping pressure on her twitching pussy walls, using the knuckle of her thumb to roughly rub her clit.  

Again she waited until the Operative’s panting sped up and softened her touch to bring her back, biting her lip, smirking to see the frustration replace euphoria.  Miranda gritted her teeth and began to grind her hips into Jack’s hand. 

Jack pressed her smaller tits to Miranda’s voluptuous chest, and hissed, “Beg me for it.” 

Miranda met Jack’s eyes and frowned, furious, never stopping the motion of her hips, “You can’t... be bloody serious!” she panted, eyes ablaze with rage, disgust, but underneath it all a deep and primal need for release.  

Jack repeated, grinning wide, “Beg, bitch. Or I can keep you right on this edge all fucking day…”  

The two bore into each other's eyes for another tense moment until Jack sensed Miranda was calming too much and curled her fingers inside her soaked, tight pussy, making her groan again, clenching her jaw. She hissed, “Dammit Jack…” hips responding in turn, “.. Please…”  

Reveling in her surrender, Jack leant closer, “‘Please’ what, Cheerleader?”  

“Please,” she repeated in the next breath, “Please make me cum… I need it…”  

Jack leaned to flick her tongue against Miranda’s neck, kept her teasing pace until Miranda breathed a final frustrated groan, then ignited her biotics in her hand, just enough to send a pulse through Miranda’s cunt, no more than a low buzz.  She nestled her thumb under her hard clit, pumping her fingers quickly into her, each time pressing the soft and sensitive spot deep within her. It wasn’t long until Miranda groaned long and loud, bucking her hips as she came over Jack’s fingers, a river of her juices seeping from her.   

Jack softened her touch again as she rode out her climax and eventually removed her hand, leaving Miranda panting, head spinning and a sheen of sweat on her breast.  Satisfied with successfully breaking the Ice Queen’s cold demeanor, Jack moved off the desk and found a vest of Miranda’s to wipe off her hand, looked over her prey once again then chuckled darkly, grabbed her jacket from the floor, shrugged it on, and left the Operative a bound and quivering shell on her desk. 

**Author's Note:**

> ... Why did I write this?


End file.
